


Static

by theorchardofbones



Series: From Darkness to Light [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bad Weather, Gen, Gladiolus discovers a cute little secret, M/M, Prompto loves chocobos but sucks at riding, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-19 07:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: Noct sets off in pursuit of Ramuh while rain pours down all around. Gladiolus and Prompto wind up left behind.Written forPromptio Weekday 4, under the prompt 'gods'.





	Static

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow Prompto and Gladio's story [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/756873).
> 
> Find me on tumblr! My personal is [here](https://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com), and my ffxv blog is [here](flowercrownsandchocobos.tumblr.com).

There are some who don’t believe in the Six; some who think that if there really were omnipotent beings out there, they’d never stand for the suffering humans endure.

Even so, there are those who make their offerings to other, more obscure deities. A candle, lit in a window during a storm; a knot of twine under a pillow; a mug of ale left out by the moonlight.

Gladiolus might never have believed in gods outside of the rhymes he learned as a kid if he hadn’t seen the Archaean for himself: a goliath, flesh turned in places to stone, carrying a meteor on his very shoulders. When they had fought Titan — sought to prove Noctis’s worth to him — Gladiolus’s blood had sung in his veins as they worked together to overpower him.

The gods are real; they are great, they are fickle, but they are not immutable. They learned that firsthand.

It’s disquieting — knowing that the stories are true, that there really are beings far greater than humanity’s humble imaginings. The Crystal, Noct’s powers, the Six… All of them are connected, but in ways Gladiolus will never understand.

Let the prince dabble in the power of the astrals. He’s content enough to stick to what he knows: the keen, lethal edge of a sword.

‘Gladio?’

Noctis’s hair is plastered to his head by the rain, his blue eyes ringed from exhaustion but bright, glittering with fervour.

‘You about ready to get a move on?’ Gladiolus says.

There’s a flash of lightning in the distance; another illuminates Noct’s face, closer, as he turns to look at it. The air is filled with the rumble of thunder, low and ominous, before Noctis can answer.

He merely turns back to Gladiolus and nods, resolute.

Wiz has been kind enough to let them hide out at the post, but Gladiolus is glad to get away. The chocobos are restless and unsettled — the storm, the charge in the air — and it’s starting to rub off on him. Even the birds that they ride out on are twitchy, shying from certain paths and twitching at every little rumble from the sky.

Noctis heads up the group, setting his sights on the lightning strikes that cluster in the sky in the distance.

It isn’t long before Prompto falls into step beside Gladiolus. His chocobo seems the flightiest of the bunch; Gladiolus watches him struggle with the reins, and when a particularly bright flash lights up the stormclouds overhead the bird takes off at a sprint, away from the group.

Gladiolus spurs his mount forward, catching up quickly to his friend. Once he’s alongside the other chocobo he reaches out and grasps the reins, tugging at them to pull the bird into line.

‘You gotta be firm,’ he says. ‘The bird needs to know you’re in charge.’

‘I _am_ in charge,’ Prompto says, indignant. His pout probably couldn’t be more cartoonish if he tried.

‘So show it you are.’

Gladiolus places the reins back into Prompto’s hands. He shows him how to get a tight enough hold that the chocobo can’t just dash off at will, and when he thinks Prompto’s got a hang of it he nods his head in the direction of the others.

‘We need to catch up,’ he says. ‘Stick by me, and do as I do.’

Prompto is able to do that much, at least, and whenever Gladiolus feels his bird bristle in response to the other’s nerves, he gestures for Prompto to take a firmer hold to reassure it. Before long they’re in an easy trot.

‘How’d you get so good at riding, anyways?’ Prompto says.

‘My dad used to bring us out in the summer, whenever he could get away from the Crownsguard,’ Gladiolus says. He feels a little lump in his throat; now’s not the time. ‘Me and Iris. She got pretty good at it, even when she was little. Used to make me race her.’

He sees Noctis veer off up ahead. Sees him put his head down and drive his chocobo purposely forward. That can mean only one thing — he’s found one of the runes.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, the sky cracks with a fresh bolt of lightning. This one is alarmingly close; there’s a smell of ozone in the air, and the hairs stand up on his arms. Nearby, Prompto’s chocobo gives a terrified cry and bucks wildly.

The fearsome echoes of the thunder have barely died down by the time Gladiolus registers the other bird running off at breakneck speed, back in the direction of the chocobo post. He pulls on his chocobo’s reins and pulls it up short, turning it around just in time to see Prompto being thrown off.

‘Damnit.’

He spurs his mount on; when he reaches the spot where Prompto fell, he can just see the errant chocobo sprinting away, too far gone now to catch.

He drops to the ground with a thud. Prompto is on his back, head cradled in his hands. Gladiolus might have thought him dead had he not been giving a low, steady groan of pain.

‘You always make it a habit to fall flat on your ass?’ Gladiolus says.

Prompto barely moves his hands from his face.

‘Only when I know you’re there to pick me up.’

Gladiolus pulls him up by the wrist, his skin slick with the rain. Once he’s upright, he dusts himself off.

‘Your bird’s gone home,’ Gladiolus says dryly. ‘Probably for the best.’

Prompto sighs.

There’s room enough for two on Gladiolus’s chocobo, at least. He takes the reins, with Prompto just behind him. Waterlogged as they both are, Prompto’s arms fit around his waist, damp but warm.

‘Try not to fall off this time,’ Gladiolus says, ‘or you’ll take me with you.’

* * *

It’s late by the time Noct finishes Ramuh’s trials; soaking wet and miserable, the group heads for the nearest settlement. They’re only too glad to drop the gil on a hotel room when it means clean sheets and a limitless supply of hot water.

Ignis, the fastest of the bunch, showers first. Once he’s out and dressed he heads off to see about securing them some dinner, while Noct hops into the shower next.

Prompto crashes out on the bed face-first, arms and legs spread out across the surface. Gladiolus can’t help but smirk at the sight. He sits down at the edge by his friend and picks up one of Prompto’s arms, whereupon he lets it go and it flops back down limply.

Muffled by the blankets comes a feeble little voice: ‘ _Ow._ ’

‘Toughen up,’ Gladiolus says, clapping a hand on Prompto’s shoulder. ‘You’ve been through worse.’

Grumbling, Prompto rolls over onto his back and sits up, scrubbing at his face. His hair sticks up all over, already partly-dried after their exploits out in the rain. His usual careful style is ruined, his blond hair tousled, and when Gladiolus looks closely he realises that as it dries, it settles itself into loose curls.

Prompto lifts a hand and plucks at a strand of hair over his forehead, pulling it taut in a vain attempt at making it straight. His cheeks look like they couldn’t possibly burn more brightly.

‘Don’t tell the others,’ he whispers.

Gladiolus laughs and slips his finger through one of the strands, coiling it around his fingertip. When he lets go, it bounces back like the curled tail of a pig.

‘It’s cute,’ he says. ‘Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.’

He was wrong about Prompto’s cheeks — he turns an even darker shade of red, looking as though he might explode at any moment. Gladiolus watches him dive down onto the bed once more, pulling a pillow over his head to hide his ever more curling hair.

Once Noct is out, Prompto scurries quickly in after him, ducking his head down low. When the prince shoots Gladiolus a look, he merely shrugs.

‘What was that all about?’ Noct asks.

‘Hell if I know.’


End file.
